Burdens Shared
by LaRenne
Summary: Renesmee, still a child, comes to Jasper to unburden her heart.


_Burdens Shared_

The burdenis light on the shoulder of another

* * *

Renesmee, a normally ebullient child despite her parents' more reserved demeanors, had been subdued for the last week. Jasper tracked it, mentally, to day she had visited Jacob Black. Bella and Alice had taken her to La Push for a final visit before Jacob joined a couple of friends headed cross country to a funeral in Nebraska.

Jasper was not the only member of the Cullen family to notice, but not a one knew what had caused it.

Carlisle had voiced his concerns once to Jasper, proposing that Renesmee had been traumatized by the events (non-events?) with the Volturi.

"I don't know that she really understands how. . . bad that situation might have been," Carlisle said.

Jasper didn't know whether he himself understood how bad it might have been; Jasper _was_ certain, however, that Alice had been hiding the severity of her visions from him. He shrugged uncomfortably.

"It's hard to say. You'd think something would have surfaced before now," he said.

Carlisle ran a hand through his hair and sighed. "Perhaps it's just Jacob being gone."

"Maybe."

If Carlisle was concerned, Edward was down-right beside himself. Renesmee had learned to shut her father out nearly as well as Bella did naturally.

Jasper once overheard his adopted brother asking his wife about it in hushed and worried tones.

"What do you think it is? Why won't she talk to us about it?"

"She's growing up," Bella said sadly.

And she _was_ growing up, faster than made sense to anyone. Faster than seemed _right_. Renesnee, a unique little girl if there ever was one, was developing unlike anything they were familiar with. She had been born scarcely a year before, and now she had all the worldly awareness of a kindergartner, the body of an 8-year-old, and moodiness befitting a preteen. Occasional glimmers of the adolescent she would be kept cropping up as well. Renesmee her own counsel more and more, and brooded to put her father's previous broodings to shame.

And she had been avoiding Jasper; that stung. But it wasn't surprising, he reminded himself. When children learned a sense of self, they began to guard themselves more closely. Both their emotions and their thoughts. So he was surprised when she came to him one afternoon in the woods where he had settled down to sketch a particularly pretty bit of landscape. It was a mindless pursuit, and he was not a particularly good hand at art. That was actually part of the draw to Jasper. If it took a year or two - or a decade - to make measurable progress, it was a sign that he was still alive. That he could still learn.

Jasper felt her approach before his physical senses picked her up. Grief and embarrassment assailed him, heady and strong. Renesmee had been holding it back, but some sort of emotional levee had been breeched.

He watched her approach until she hesitated at a nearby pine.

"Uncle Jasper?"

Renesmee's breath smelled like chocolate chip cookies. Esme's effort to cheer up the youngest of their strange little family, no doubt.

"What's wrong, Darlin'?"

"I did something bad, but I don't know what."

"You want to tell me about it?"

Renesmee nodded mutely and stepped into the small clearing, extending a hand toward him.

Her hand was warm on his cheek, but he scarcely had a moment to appreciate it before Jasper found himself peering into a crystal clear tide pool, seeing what Renesmee recalled. Several black mussels clung to the rocks, and a dusty pink anemone stretched in the sunlight. At the edge of his vision, Jacob Black's foot was clad in a torn, canvas shoe. It was more foot than shoe, really. Little more than a thick, rubber sole, tied across the top of his tanned foot to protect him from the brutal rocks of the shoreline.

Renesmee looked up. Jacob was smiling at her. She looked back down, unable to look him in the face. She steeled herself and asked the question that had been plaguing her mind for a while.

"Jake, are you poor?"

There was a pause in the memory then, and Jasper could feel the rush of confusion and shame as Renesmee relived that moment.

Back in her memory, Jake was on his heels, regarding her warily. His face was still, and the smile was careful and stiff looking. He shrugged one shoulder. "I guess we're a little poor. But most people on the rez are. We do fine. You don't need to worry about me."

But Renesmee knew she had said something wrong. She had embarrassed her best friend. She had to do something to fix it. And like any child, she knew just who could help in any situation.

"Mama and Daddy can give you some money. They're quite wealthy." She tried to sound sophisticated-matter-of-fact.

Jasper had to hand it to Jacob Black. Renesmee had dealt him a blow; but he took it bravely, his entire body quaking faintly, like ripples in a still pool when a breeze blows over top. But nothing more.

"No, Nessie." He patted her on the shoulder, seeing in her face what Jasper couldn't. "People don't share money like that. But it's really nice of you to offer."

He crouched beside her and put a careful, almost parental hand on her shoulder. Renesmee choked back a sob, still not understanding, and made one last attempt to right whatever she had done.

Her voice trembled in scarcely more than a whisper. "I can buy you some shoes."

Jasper felt a sensation he hadn't felt in a very long time, a certain sting around the eyes. He knew Renesmee had been on the edge of tears, but this was proof. Whatever Jacob had managed in reply was lost as Renesmee's vision dissolved into a watery blur.

Jasper reeled from the onslaught of feelings pouring out of the strange little girl and hoped she wouldn't read him as well as she had read Jacob. Mercifully, Renesmee was so exhausted by the shame and guilt, and from her attempts to hide it, she collapsed in a sob, and let Jasper take her carefully in his arms.

He was startled for an instant, and how easily Renesmee accepted the embrace. He'd held her a couple of times, during the few days of her infancy. Jasper had found her curious and warm, and potentially a little frightening. He feared he would break her, despite what was obviously supernatural strength on Renesmee's part. She was just _so_ small. Tiny fingernails on tiny fingers. The violet thread-like veins of her tired drooping eyelids. Alice reassured everyone nothing would come of it, but Jasper had felt his entire family's anxiety as he held the tiny beating heart next to his silent chest.

And now, that he should have this moment right here? Was it wrong for him to be even the slightest bit grateful that Renesmee should have suffered this embarrassment so he could comfort her now?

Probably. _But people can't help what they feel._ _Even vampires_—_even hybrids_, Jasper reminded himself.

Renesmee settled beside him, and together they rocked fractionally back and forth. It was inexplicably comforting, instinctive. He could feel Renesmee relax against him.

Long minutes later, she was breathing more normally, but still snuffling from time to time. She hadn't looked up yet, but seemed content just to stay there pressed against him as long as he was willing.

The sunlight eventually began to soften into a honey-like glow, and Jasper knew they'd have to be getting back soon. He was surprised no one had been out to look for them. Had Alice intervened, he wondered? She wouldn't be able to hold them off forever.

"Why did you come to _me_?" Jasper finally asked.

Renesmee took a long, slow breath before replying. "'Cause you could know exactly how bad I feel."

Jasper nodded and spoke into her hair. "I do."


End file.
